Facing the Storm
by Reva Arian
Summary: When Connor falls ill will Murphy be able to handle the responsibility of caring for him? Premovie.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my love of BDS and my soft spot for vulnerable men.

I wanted to wait until I finished this before posting but I just couldn't resist. I have a bad habit of never finishing a fic, regardless of fandom, so bear with me.

* * *

A rebel stream of sunlight found its way directly into the eyes of Murphy McManus as he lay asleep in his bed. Well, if a tattered mattress set on the floor could be considered a bed. The brightness agitated him despite his efforts of covering his face with his pillow. Finally, Murphy opened his eyes slowly and stretched his long limbs until the tips of his toes went just over the edge of his mattress.

He loved Saturdays. He lay on his back and stared up at the cruddy ceiling of the loft dwelling he shared with his brother. He thought about what he might do for the rest of the day. He would have preferred to sleep longer, but the sun had already proven that he was to be awake at that moment. He and his brother would probably sit around and relax, maybe get into the occasional bicker that would be settled by roughhousing and perhaps stop by the bar for a drink and a laugh before coming back home and crawling back into dreamland for the night.

He took time out of these thoughts to listen for the sounds he was used to hearing on the average Saturday morning. The intermittent ambulance siren could be heard in the far distance along with maybe a few birds that had managed to establish their own residence on the fire escape.

Inside the apartment he found it to be quiet. Unusually so. He had expected to hear the shower running, soft murmurs drifting from the TV, or any other activity his brother might partake in early in the morning. Turning to his left side he could see that his brother lay in his own bed, mere feet away from him, still asleep as he was positioned on his stomach with his head turned away.

"Hey." He said in a harsh whisper, "Connor. Wake up."

Nothing.

"Connor." He said a little louder, quickly becoming annoyed that his twin was asleep while he did not have that luxury.

"Connor!" He yelled this time, throwing a balled-up sock at the back of his head.

Confusion crossed his face when his brother still didn't stir. Keeping his eyes on the prone form of his twin, he rolled out of his bed and into Connor's.

"Connor?" It was a question now, fear gripping him as he slowly raised a hand to place on his brother's shoulder. Feeling the heat of his skin, Murphy placed the palm of his hand on Connor's forehead without hesitation. Only then did he get a response from his brother, a small groan and a brief flicker of his eyelids. Murphy gave his shoulder a shake to fully rouse him.

"Go away." Connor had managed to say after attempting to swallow. He rolled from his stomach and onto his left side in an attempt to get away from his bothersome twin. He opened his eyes for a short moment before suddenly closing them again. His head didn't spin as fast when his eyes were closed.

"No can do." Murphy tried to roll Connor onto his back. Connor, too tired to fight, allowed him to, "Now, what's wrong?"

"I'll be fine. Just let me sleep."

Murphy considered this option. Sleep would probably help his brother immensely, and depriving him of it might be worse. Still, he was wary of just letting a fever go, mild or not. Without waiting for an answer Connor turned back onto his side, coughing a bit before curling into himself and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

A word of warning… I am a sucker for vulnerability so I play it for all it's worth. If men in pain (ish) is not your thing, then this story isn't for you. If it is, then this will be bound to pull at your heartstrings. More to come soon, please no flames as this is my first BDS fic. R&R! 


	2. Chapter 2

_Murphy considered this option. Sleep would probably help his brother immensely, and depriving him of it might be worse. Still, he was wary of just letting a fever go, mild or not. Without waiting for an answer Connor turned back onto his side, coughing a bit before curling into himself and drifting off to sleep._

Connor awoke some time later to the smell of microwaved pizza that caused his stomach to churn. Murphy sat on the floor leaning with his back against the bottom of the couch watching TV and sipping beer as he munched on leftover pizza. 11 am was not too early for beer. His brother had not moved from his position in two hours, so when Murphy saw a foot sneak out from under the sheet he knew his brother was waking. After finishing his beer he stood up and walked over to his brother's bed.

Someone was standing over him, that much he knew. His eyes burned and his mouth and throat were dry. He could hear the muffled sound of someone's voice but couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Conner… Conner, are you awake? Connor?" Murphy's eyes glanced over his brother's features as he tried to rouse him. When he was unresponsive Murphy reached his hand out to put over Connor's forehead. His temperature had risen and Murphy was beginning to worry.

He rooted through the bare cupboards, searching for aspirin or anything that could help his brother.

"Shit." Finding nothing, Murphy rubbed the back of his neck. Throwing on his shoes and coat he took one last long look at Connor before running out the door.

* * *

_He looked down from the roof, searching, hoping to see his brother looking back at him. He readied the heavy object he was carrying, hoisting it in front of him and taking aim to drop it. But as he looked down he could see that the scene below him was different than it was supposed to be. What he saw below was worse than he could imagine._

_Five stories below him was his brother lying motionless on the ground. Connor's arms began to burn and he realized that he was still holding the heavy object. He let it fall, confused when he saw that the object he dropped had been a toilet. It soared through the air as if in slow motion before shattering on impact mere feet away from his brother. Connor crawled closer to the edge of the fire escape with great difficulty because of the handcuffs restraining his wrists. He wanted to get a better look. He wanted to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. His brother looked the way that Connor had always remembered him. He was wearing a white robe, though, and Connor saw that he too was wearing a white robe. Fear suddenly gripped his heart when he saw that there was an ever-growing puddle of blood coming from under his brother's head and filling the alley below._

_Connor screamed, tears streaming down his face as he beat his handcuffed wrists against the iron fencing of the fire escape. Blood poured down his hands as he felts the cuffs cutting through his skin and into his tendons. "I'm coming, Murph" He cried with quiet conviction. Without a second thought Connor jumped allowing his flailing body to fall to the concrete below._

* * *

His eyes opened like a shot as a strangled scream made its way past his lips.

"No! Murph!"

He struggled to breathe as he was drawn back to reality and away from the horrifying dream. For some reason he knew that in his dream there were supposed to be two other men and that they were originally after him and not his brother. But why? Why was he on the roof? Why was he handcuffed? _And_, why on earth was he carrying a toilet? The dream left him with the unsettling conclusion that something horrible was going to happen.

_Oh God. _What if the dream was a warning of something to come? His brother may die and it would be his fault. Tears spilled from his eyes as he screamed for his brother, hearing only silence in response. He managed to raise his head and when his eyes cleared he could see that he was alone in the apartment. Connor went cold as a fearful thought crossed his disoriented mind. What if the dream was a memory? What if he had lived after the jump and spent his days remembering that his brother was dead. He felt empty inside and he screamed louder and louder, calling his brother's name hoping that his thoughts were untrue.

* * *

Murphy burst through the door allowing the brown sack he had been carrying to drop to the floor in his haste. From the hall he could hear his brother's anguished cries and he felt as if his heart were ripping in half.

"Connor, I'm here." He yelled to his brother as he rushed to his side. As Murphy came closer Connor visibly froze. By the look in his eyes Murphy could tell that something was wrong.

Suddenly, Connor gave a choked gasp and he was convulsing, his body writhing and shaking as his eyes rolled back in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

_Suddenly, Connor gave a choked gasp and he was convulsing, his body writhing and shaking as his eyes rolled back in his head._

"No!" Murphy heard his own voice cry out. Tears sprang to his eyes as he threw himself on his brother struggling as he tried to keep his weight on Connor's body. Thirty seconds later the convulsions stopped and Connor was still, eyes closed. Murphy hesitantly checked his pulse finding that it was racing beneath his fingers. He moved his hand to his brother's sweaty forehead frowning when he discovered that his fever was high, rising considerably within the breadth of an hour.

Murphy stood back and looked at Connor who lay unmoving aside from his shallow breathing, feeling his own heart as it pounded violently against his chest. In a split second decision Murphy tore the sheets from the bed and lifted his brother into his arms. He carried him with ease over to the shower and laid him on the floor, turning on the water and allowing it to run cool over both he and his twin.

"Shit, shit, fuck. Oh, God. Fuck!" Murphy allowed the obscenities to flow from his mouth as he shivered beneath the stream that beat down on him, "Oh, God, please be okay." He prayed, vaguely aware that he was crying. He was scared out of his mind, but he still managed to concentrate on rubbing the water over his brother's bare shoulders in an effort to cool his heated body.

"Connor…"

Emotion overtook him and he held his twin close, rocking back and forth as if he were a child again. He cried waiting for so much as a twitch or a sigh. Connor, though, remained lifeless and slack as his head hung back and exposed the tattoo on his neck.

Murphy finally turned the water off, his own face becoming slack and void of emotion as he wrapped a robe around Connor and laid him back in his bed. It was harder, this time, to lift his brother not only because he no longer had the adrenaline, but because he was exhausted from worry. After making sure that his brother was covered up he then made his way to the discarded paper bag. He cleared a spot on the small table and laid out a bottle of aspirin, three packs of cigarettes, and a loaf of bread. The last item he pulled from the bag was a carton of orange juice, which he placed in the fridge.

As Murphy sat across from his brother he felt he was at a loss. He stared at his twin's face, willing him to open his eyes. But still he got nothing. The only thing Murphy could do was watch and wait, his heart wrenching as Connor's breath became labored and filled the silence of the apartment.

* * *

Murphy opened his eyes and realized that the apartment had grown dark. He had watched over Connor for the majority of the day doing little else other than shifting positions and getting up to use the bathroom or get something to eat. He wouldn't be any good to his brother if he allowed himself to get sick as well by not eating. He must have dozed off just before evening had settled. Glancing at the clock sitting on the table between the beds he saw that it read well past 3 am. His attention, though, was soon shifted and he was called back to what had awakened him in the first place.

"Murph?" It was barely above a whisper and was followed by a cough.

Murphy's heart jumped into his throat as he looked to the direction of the source that spoke his name. There was his brother, eyes glistening in the dim light indicating that he was awake. He turned on the small lamp next to him and light spread over the wall and their beds. Connor, who hadn't seemed affected by the light, called out once again. Murphy noted how Connor's chest quickly rose and fell as he drew in each breath. His eyes looked around wildly and his arms were reaching out. Scared that his brother might again go into convulsions, Murphy moved to sit at the edge of Connor's mattress.

"Murph." Connor's eyes locked with his as he paused to swallow before speaking again, "You're alive."

Murphy was taken aback, confused by this statement, "Of course I am, idiot."

"I saw you though." Connor's eyebrows scrunched together and looked past Murphy, as if seeking answers that were written on the ceiling. "There was so much blood… so much…"

Murphy managed to realize through observing his brother's erratic breathing and anguished words that Connor must have been plagued by nightmares due to his high fever. He reached forward and swept the hair out of his brother's eyes which were now half closed. The simple task of speaking had taken a lot out of him.

In a flash, Murphy was up and in the kitchen. Grabbing the loaf of bread he'd bought earlier he threw two pieces into the toaster before fishing out a glass and filling it with water. Glass in hand, he swiped the aspirin bottle from the table and returned to his brother's side. Connor had already closed his eyes again as if settling into sleep when he was shaken abruptly.

"Take this." Looking down he could see that Murphy held two white tablets in his hand. Ignoring him, Connor closed his eyes and tried to turn over but felt himself being pulled into a sitting position. "You can sleep after you take this and get some food in you." As if on cue the toaster popped, indicating that it was ready. Begrudgingly, he took the glass and the pills as Murphy disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

"Not yet…" Murphy refrained from calling his brother another name as he shook him by the shoulders to rouse him once again. He eyed the glass sitting on the nightstand and thrust it into Connor's hand. "All of it." Connor held up the glass of mostly full water and stared at it warily before looking to his brother. Murphy only gave him a stern look before thrusting a plate with toast on it into his other hand.

Connor downed the water but immediately regretted it as he felt his stomach flip over itself. He fought to keep the water down as he took a small bite of toast. Meanwhile, Murphy filled the emptied glass halfway with orange juice.

"If this stuff isn't gone by the time I am back, we're going to have words." He declared as Connor stared back at him and rolled his eyes. With that Murphy grabbed a lighter and a pack of smokes and climbed out onto the fire escape.

In the apartment Connor sighed heavily. Looking down he saw that he had only eaten a third of his first piece of toast. He didn't really intend on eating the rest either. His eyes became heavy as he reached for the orange juice, sipping it carefully to squelch his sudden nausea. He thought about what his brother was doing for him. It was obvious that Murphy had been looking over him but he couldn't be sure for how long. The last thing he remembered was being woken up by Murph just that morning. The rest was a blur of nightmares and unconsciousness. The nightmares made him uneasy and even scared. In every one of them his brother was hurt or dying. They were all filled with blood and pain overshadowed by mystery and sporadic voices speaking as if they were in prayer. He couldn't place the meaning of it, and he began to shiver from both cold and fear.

Outside, Murphy ran a tired hand over his face before lighting a cigarette. His brother was being a little difficult, he knew. But he really couldn't blame him. He was ill and probably felt too weak to follow through with the tasks that could help him get well. At least he was awake now, Murphy thought. When Connor was asleep all he could do was watch and wait, hoping either that something good would happen or praying that something bad wouldn't happen. In truth, he was scared. What if he couldn't help his brother? What if his efforts were in vain and Connor just grew sicker and sicker? And then the hospital wouldn't be able to do anything, and then… Well, he didn't want to think about that. He shivered as cold and fear passed over him.


End file.
